


Intro to Paintball

by lolamit



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: (but is it?), Canon Compliant, Crack, Fluff and Crack, Guns, Light Angst, M/M, Paintball, Some Fluff, also lmao i've never played paintball once in my life can you tell, because apparently that's the mood i was in while writing this, references to weapons and shooting but it's just paintball and none of it's graphic, this is basically just crack treated seriously, we have fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25961767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolamit/pseuds/lolamit
Summary: When an impromptu game of paintball breaks out in the village, Kevin has to face the memory of seeing someone get shot during his first week in Uganda and the guilt that has since infested his mind, all while staying on his toes, torn between his best friend and his feelings for his District Leader, as the action turns opponents into unexpected allies and loyalties are put to the test.Or, the Book of Mormon and Community fusion no one asked for(This is crack, literally just crack treated a bit seriously bc I got too invested, shocker)
Relationships: Background Churchtarts and Arnaba, Elder "Connor" McKinley/Kevin Price
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	Intro to Paintball

**Author's Note:**

> Words like guns, bullets, shot and so on are used quite often in this so if that's a trigger, please be warned and don't read it if it makes you uncomfortable. I have full understanding, dw <3

No one’s fully certain how it happened. How they all ended up in this situation, squatting behind a tipped-over table, holding their breaths so as not to draw any attention. Their limited time at the missionary training center had gracefully omitted any and all information on the matter, not that anyone could have ever anticipated this. 

Kevin can feel his heart beating as Elder Church peers out from the edge of the table, trying to see if the intruders are still present or if the coast to move to a new location is finally clear. He gets braver the further out he leans, and he waves a hand behind him for the others to follow. Kevin looks around, briefly meets Elder McKinley’s eyes before his attention is jerked away. 

Elder Neeley stands, like the moron he is, and both Kevin and their District Leader are grabbing at his wrists in an instant, but it’s too late. He can barely hear it; barely notices the impact it has on Neeley’s body until his white shirt is stained red and it begins to slowly trickle down his chest. Elder McKinley’s head falls in his hands, a noise Kevin can’t quite decipher leaving his mouth as the other Elders watch Neeley realize what just occurred. 

“Crap,” he says, rubbing his fingers against the still-wet stain on his shirt with a sigh before he turns his attention to his friends on the floor. “Well, I’m out. Good luck, y’all.” 

Kevin stares after him as he leaves the building while Elder Thomas reaches for the gun he’d left behind. 

“I didn’t tell him to stand,” Church is quick to state, not wanting to carry any blame for their loss. 

“You _did_ wave us along, though,” Thomas counters, but they’re both quickly turned down by Elder McKinley. 

“Another word and I’ll shoot you myself,” he warns, motioning for Church to keep looking out. “Red paint is Mutumbo’s crew, so we’re probably good.” 

As Church continues peeking out from behind the table, Kevin watches as Thomas checks Neeley’s ammunition and picks out a few yellow paintballs to load up his own marker. Although they weren’t necessarily playing in teams, everyone knew there would be groups and alliances formed at the start of the game, and so they decided to give each team differently colored pellets, to make it easier to know both who’s attacking you, and which team has the most hits by the end. Unfortunately, though, Kevin’s plan hadn’t worked out quite as he’d intended, which now rendered his weapon the so-far-unnoticed elephant loaded with blue pellets in a room of mostly yellow ammunition. 

“Anyone need a reload?” 

“Yeah, I could use a few,” Church says, turning back around and hands his gun over to Thomas. “Coast is clear, by the way. I think they left.” 

Thomas loads Church’s marker while McKinley dares a peek over the top edge of the table, scanning the area with focused eyes as Kevin watches. It hadn’t come as a surprise, the way the District Leader instantly took charge once the game started. He always does that, always looks out for his fellow Elders as if it’s still his job. Kevin wants to point out that it isn’t, hasn’t been since they got shut down by the mission president, but he usually refrains. Keeps his feelings and his thoughts in check, especially around McKinley, because they have a tendency to run far, far too wild whenever he’s around. And for reasons Kevin chooses to repress. Deny, ignore, whatever he can. Still, he can’t help but stare slightly, as his District Leader slowly gets to his feet to move forward. 

“Price?” Thomas catches his attention before he can follow McKinley, and his head snaps toward the boy beside him. “You need a reload?” 

“Oh,” Kevin says, not wanting to reveal where his loyalties actually lie, and shakes his head. “No, I’m good.” 

“Have you even used a single shot?” Church queries as he gets up to follow their leader. 

Kevin hasn’t. He hasn’t fired his gun once during the game so far. Granted, they’ve only been playing for a mere twenty minutes and have barely encountered the other players, but he’d be lying if he said holding a gun – fake or not – didn’t make him the tiniest bit uneasy. But he quickly reassures himself that it’s only a game. It’s only paint. _It doesn’t even hurt_ , Arnold had told him. _It’s like a flick, you’ll barely feel it_. 

He _had_ barely even heard the ball that hit Neeley’s chest, so maybe there was some truth to those words. That doesn’t mean he believed them. Not then and certainly not now, but he’s adjusting. This is what normal people do; they play with guns as though they’ve never seen one used with their own eyes. These aren’t lethal blows, Kevin knows that, but whoever had been dumb enough to decide red paint wasn’t too much could stick it. 

“We’ve barely encountered anyone yet, give him a break,” McKinley says as he moves along the walls of their mission hut, making sure to avoid windows as best he can. Kevin watches as he makes for the door, peeking out to see if anyone’s lagging behind. “We can’t stay here, it’s too small.” 

“We could go to the church,” Elder Church appropriately suggests as he follows their district leader to the hall, moving expertly along the floorboards without making a single sound, as though acutely aware of which ones will creak. “It’s not big but there’s only four of us. It doesn’t have a lot of windows, so it’ll be easy to barricade.” 

“We’ll never make it,” Thomas chimes in, stuffing his pockets with small, silver packets of his favorite snack. It’s almost laughable, how they’re in a high-stakes game of paintball without Thomas’s priorities changing in the slightest. “Even if everyone else have set up camp already, we still have the rogues. The streets aren’t safe.” 

“We could cut through the woods,” Kevin hears himself say without realizing his lips moved. “The church is right on the edge and I don’t think anyone’s dumb enough to take cover outside.” 

His teammates – which still isn’t the most suitable term since they’re not actually playing in teams and anyone can betray anyone at any given time – all look at him, mulling it over as the seconds drag on and Kevin feels increasingly more stupid. He’s never played paintball before. He’s never played laser tag or anything like it. The closest he got was at age twelve when he and his brother were given a set of water guns for Jack’s birthday, and their father let them play with them for all of an hour before they were thrown away, never to be seen again. It makes sense, in hindsight. Kevin doesn’t think kids should play with guns however fake they look. It sends quite a terrible message, in his opinion. But he’ll admit that a few more water fights with Jack would have given him at least _some_ advantage today. 

“He’s right,” McKinley says after a while, shooting Kevin a smile that he doesn’t know how to react to at all. So, he blushes. Okay, yeah. Subtle. “We’re gonna have to change into something less…” he gestures between the four of them, all clad in their pressed, white button-downs that not only feel like sandpaper against their skin but is quite easy to spot against the greenish-brown backdrop of a Ugandan forest, “…white.” 

It’s a good question why no one had thought to change clothes before starting the game, but then again, it all happened on a whim. Mutumbo and Middala had shown up this morning with – and excuse his language, but it really was – a shit ton of equipment, completely out of nowhere, and from that moment on, things sort of just happened. Rules were briefly explained to those who’d never played before, and they quickly came to an agreement that all players start with one gun and one round of ammunition each, but that there’s more to pick up in two designated areas – Sadaka’s porch, and outside Ghali’s minimarket. Both locations are fairly centered in the part of the village they’re playing, so they should be equally easy to access for all parties. 

The only thing they forgot to think of, however, was that the ammo placed in these areas was a mix of colors, and there was no rule stating you couldn’t just pick a different one than the one assigned to your supposed team, so the idea that they would be able to deduce who had most hits by the end of the game didn’t really hold up. 

Not that it bothered Kevin that much, though, but that was pretty much all they had time to discuss before the game was in full swing. Last person standing wins, and is subsequently cleared of any cleaning duties that follow, because as nice as it is, that they’re all doing something together like this, there’s going to be quite the mess when they’re finished, and there isn’t a single person involved who wouldn’t want to weasel their way out of taking care of that. Kevin, regretfully included. 

Since the game started between the two equipment pickup areas, everyone spread out almost instantly. So, in hindsight, it makes sense that none of the Elders thought to change their clothes, because a) they didn’t have time beforehand, and b) no one wanted to make the trek back to the hut, which lay a fair bit away from the rest of the village while not being sheathed by any nearby buildings or trees. However, there was one group who hadn’t regarded the mission hut as a bad hideout at first, and it’s evidently the group Kevin ended up joining. For better or worse. But at the very least, having the convenient opportunity to change into more camouflaging colors _did_ put them at a slight advantage. Only against the Elders, that is. And Kevin, McKinley, Church, and Thomas – and Neeley, had he not gotten himself foolishly eliminated – are the only ones out of the ten of them who hadn’t seemed to team up with some of the Ugandans. He isn’t sure exactly where people’s loyalties lie as of right now, only that Arnold went with Nabulungi, and Kevin was supposed to join them but got too caught up at the start of the game to see where they went. So, he teamed up with Elder McKinley. 

Which was an inherently dumb idea because Kevin is anything but natural around his District Leader. Case in point seeing as how five minutes after they decided to go with Kevin’s idea, Elder McKinley enters Kevin and Arnold’s room a little too unannounced so that Kevin, who is in the process of changing into a darker, looser t-shirt, freezes to the spot with his top bared and McKinley’s eyes glued to his chest and he should move or turn away or _something_ , instead of just standing there like a complete fool. 

“Oh my gosh,” McKinley thankfully catches himself before Kevin can get his mouth to speak. “I’m so sorry.” 

He turns around, allowing Kevin the privacy to pull his shirt over his head which takes him just a beat too long, but he eventually regains his bearings. “No, it’s um,” he falters. “It’s fine, I’m good. Now.” 

McKinley turns back, a bit hesitantly as if he doesn’t quite believe him. “I just came to see if you were ready to go,” he says, offering a small smile to compensate for staring. Kevin wouldn’t have minded if it didn’t make him so damn flustered. 

“I am,” he says, waiting for McKinley to make a move for the door. 

He doesn’t, though. Instead, he takes a few steps and sits down on Kevin’s bed with a sigh. “Great, we’ll go in ten,” he says, shooting Kevin an apologetic look before nodding his head toward the door. “Poptarts and Church are gonna need, um, a moment.” 

“Oh,” Kevin deadpans, and he’s certain his cheeks are flushing if the twitch in McKinley’s lips is anything to go by. He knows Elder Church and Elder Thomas are, well, more than friendly. They all know that since they accidentally outed themselves by getting a bit too drunk one night and sharing a kiss in the middle of their common room, in front of everyone. No one had any objections, either, which both relieved and confused Kevin. These are practicing Mormons he lives with, the lot of them, and _no one_ had any issues with seeing two guys shamelessly make out right in front of their noses. But then again, most of them were drinking that night, so perhaps they weren’t as Mormon as they may seem. “Are they…?” 

“Mhm,” McKinley affirms through pursed lips. “I’m all for their relationship but _right now_? They couldn’t postpone their makeout session till _after_ the game?” 

Kevin laughs. He doesn’t mean to, but he does. “Maybe they think they might actually die.” 

McKinley looks at him in a way Kevin doesn’t know how to read. He’s seen many a gaze directed at him by his District Leader since arriving in Kitguli, but he never knows what they mean. McKinley is annoying that way, he should be the easiest one to decipher but he simply isn’t. He’s complex, and calculating, and far too in his head to let anything slip his tongue without it being carefully considered first. The complete opposite of Kevin Price, in other words. 

“You’d tell me if you were uncomfortable with this, right?” he says after a moment, and the question surprises Kevin. “If you don’t wanna play?” 

“Yeah,” Kevin shrugs. “Why do you ask?” 

“I don’t know, you just seem, hesitant.” McKinley laughs through his nose. “To use that.” 

Kevin looks to the piece of plastic or aluminum or whatever the hell it’s made of that’s resting on Arnold’s bed. “I’ve never fired a gun before.” What a stupid thing to say, what an utterly dumb, completely nonsensical thing to say because, of course, of fucking course Kevin has never fired a gun before in his life, that wouldn’t come as a surprise to a single living soul out there. 

McKinley laughs quietly. “Neither have I,” he says, giving a small shrug in what seems like encouragement. “I just try to imagine them as those nerf guns my friends always used to make me play with. Even though these look a heck of a lot more realistic.” 

Kevin stares. Elder McKinley used to play with nerf guns. Elder _turn-it-off_ McKinley used to run around shooting his friends for fun. What the actual fu- 

“You don’t have to play, you know that, right?” Kevin’s thoughts are interrupted by his District Leader getting on his feet and moving closer. “If you want out, you’d tell me, right?” 

So many questions. So many assuming questions that are really just Elder McKinley’s preconceived notions looking to be confirmed. Kevin doesn’t understand why he’s given all of this so much thought already, why he asks if Kevin would tell him if he didn’t want to play, rather than plainly asking if he wants to play in the first place. That way it wouldn’t seem like he cared. It’s dumb, he knows, but it’s just slightly easier, too. 

“Yeah, of course, it’s just. I want to,” he says, and he means it, he really does. “I’m trying to be, you know, cool.” 

McKinley laughs again, but then he smiles so warmly that Kevin nearly feels his heartbeat quicken and he tries and he tries and he tries to ignore it but Connor – _Elder McKinley_ – has that one crooked tooth that makes his smile stand out from the rest and Kevin thinks he could identify it anywhere. 

“I think we all know you’re already the coolest person around here, Elder _something-incredible_ Price,” he says, and there’s a twinkle in his eye that Kevin does not notice. At all. “You don’t need to shoot people to prove it.” 

Kevin nearly laughs at that, but all that escapes him is an amused breath through his nose that could easily sound a lot more condescending than intended. “No?” 

“No,” McKinley says, shaking his head and smiling _that way_ again and the temperature suddenly spikes and he can’t breathe. “But I’m glad you’re on my team, either way.” 

Finally, something tangible he can cling onto. Even if it’s a lot more sentimental than he would have preferred, it’s clear, it’s honest, it isn’t beating around a burning bush. It’s readable. Black ink on white parchment, in plain English. 

Kevin smiles back. “Me too.” 

Ten minutes later they’re all stood in the hallway, ready to head out and, well uh, fight, or whatever. Elder Church has built a makeshift holster for his gun, which seems awfully crafty for his character, but then, Kevin doesn’t really know him that well. He doesn’t really know any of them that well. The only one he’s close to is Arnold, and he isn’t even here. 

“Alright, Price, since you know the route, you and Church will take the lead,” McKinley says once they make it past the door and head for the outskirts of the woods. “Poptarts and I will cover you.” 

Kevin sends him a nod as they begin moving, and for the first time since they started, Kevin actually enjoys himself. The sneaking and the looking out for opponents makes him feel like he’s in a movie, playing the straight, white hero that, despite his many obvious flaws and complete lack of knowledge or skill, manages to beat the bad guys, get the girl, and save the world, all while looking suave and virtually unscathed. He feels like James Bond if James Bond were a barely grownup, religiously dubious kid that’s been maliciously misplaced in a developing country without the means to get by. 

Yeah, that probably wouldn’t make as much bank as hot-white-dude-fights-crime-and-sleeps-with-hot-white-girl- _or_ -ethnically-ambiguous-girl-because-you-know- _inclusion_ , to be fair. 

“Okay, you all know I love that nickname, but it doesn’t really suit the situation,” Thomas says once they’ve begun moving. “No one with a gun would be named after a snack.” 

“There is a time and place for that conversation,” McKinley responds. “And it is not now, Poptarts.” 

“You _must_ hear how that sounds. It’s not good.” 

“What would we even call you? You can’t just make up your own nickname.” 

“So, give me a new one – a _cool_ one-“ 

“Wait.” Church suddenly stops dead in his tracks, a hand in the air to keep the others from moving, as he scans the area with trained focus. “Crap. We’re not alone.” 

“I don’t hear anything,” McKinley says, coming up to stand between Church and Kevin as if he’d be able to hear better from there. “The church isn’t far, do you think we can make it?” 

“We’re gonna have to.” 

“It might just be Mutumbo again, though, right?” Thomas asks. 

“That’s worse,” Church says without turning around, keeping his eyes on the open area outside the woods. “His gang doesn’t care about winning, so they’ll take any risk, even if puts them in danger too. The other groupings would know better than to roam the streets that freely.” 

“So, what do we do?” Kevin asks, growing impatient. He doesn’t enjoy feeling like a sitting duck, and the longer they stay static, the higher the risk of getting caught gets. 

Elder Church turns to their District Leader. “Elder McKinley?” 

“I trust you, James,” McKinley responds, and Kevin notes the use of Elder Church’s first name. They rarely call each other anything but Elder This and Elder That – with the one exception being Arnold who everyone just sort of refers to as Arnold because he is, and not to sound like a broken record, Arnold – but Kevin has noticed that it’s something their District Leader does when emphasizing something. Be it compassion, authority, or, well, trust. 

Elder Church nods, seeming to mull it over before he turns around to face the three of them. “How quiet can you guys be?” 

Thomas does a gesture of zipping his mouth shut that makes Church crack a smile, but no one responds. Appropriately answering the question through show, don’t tell. 

“If we continue along the edge of the woods for a couple hundred yards, we’ll get a better view of what we’re dealing with, but if we attract _any_ attention, we’re dead,” he continues, quickly regretting his choice of words as he winces slightly. “I mean, we’re out.” 

It isn’t life or death, however seriously certain players are taking it. But a slipup like that is an easy mistake, because, in a sense, it feels so very real, at least to Kevin. 

They make their way forward again, with Elder Church upfront, and they aren’t moving fast by any means, but they’re taking every precaution not to step on any branches or ruffle any leaves. A few minutes later, they can see the church up ahead, and Church motions for them to stop again. This time, Kevin can see why. 

Most buildings in the outskirts of the village are packed rather densely, but the church is the newest addition, built by the united force of Elders and Ugandans alike, and it stands further away yet a mere fifty yards from the nearest building. They placed it there because it was supposed to be a holy site, a place of refuge and sanction that, while still part of the village, would symbolize a distant place. Paradise. Salt Lake City. 

Needless to say, it hasn’t been used for many sermons, but rather as a place to gather for whatever reason they deem worthy. Which could be anything from Arnold and Kevin telling the kids stories to parties where moonshine and whatever alcohol they could get their hands on was generously flowing. 

It would be a good place to set base, but by the looks of it, Elders Michaels and Zelder have teamed up with Sadaka, Ghali, and Gotswana in the huts closest by, just a few feet away from Sadaka’s porch, giving them the tactful advantage of restocking whenever need be, and if Kevin and his teammates tried to make a run for it now, they’d definitely be caught. 

“What do we do?” Thomas asks, getting antsy where he’s standing and fiddling with the weapon in hand. “Can’t we just, I don’t know, ambush them?” 

“There’s at least five of them,” McKinley says. “I don’t think all of us would make it.” 

“We need a distracti-“ 

Elder Church’s words are cut short by the sudden shouts of everyone’s favorite nightmare – _the motherfucking rogues_ , self-named, of course. 

Mutumbo, Mafala, and a few others emerge from behind Middala’s Barbershop, forcing Michaels and Zelder out of their safehouse, guns blazing. McKinley seizes the opportunity and makes a run for the church. Elder Church and Thomas soon follow, and Kevin is just about to get his feet moving when he spots even more people, coming through the gaps between the huts nearest the forest and suddenly, they’re in a four-way standoff. 

The rogues barely notice them, thankfully, as they’re still going after Michaels’s crew who retreats to the denser part of the village, but not before both Michaels and Ghali are hit, begrudgingly surrendering their markers to Mutumbo and, Kevin can make out now, Elder Schrader. 

He doesn’t know where to go. He should just follow Elder McKinley to the church, take cover until the other players either shoot each other out or seeks refuge of their own, but then he spots a familiar face. Over by the minimarket, waving both hands wildly in the air is Arnold, and by his side Nabulungi, who seems more focused on watching their backs than she does getting Kevin’s attention. It takes him all of two seconds to decide, and he sprints, faster than he thinks his legs can move, past the church and forward until- 

“Price!” comes a voice from behind him, and he stops by reflex. McKinley is standing on the steps to the church, keeping a watchful eye at the showdown still going on a few houses away, and shooting Kevin glances that make his stomach go _woooosh_ like the most insane rollercoaster he’s ever been on. 

He doesn’t know what to say, so he voices a meek, “Sorry,” before turning around again and diving behind the nearest object that can sheath him from McKinley’s bullets. 

But, he realizes quickly, no bullets are fired his way. He peeks out from behind the dumpster he’d landed next to, seeing Elder McKinley only stare after him for a few seconds before retreating back inside and shutting the door. Thomas and Church have already made quick work of barricading the few windows from the inside, and Kevin wonders, for just a moment, if he made the wrong decision. 

“Kevin!” Arnold’s voice snaps him out of it as he approaches. “Where’ve you been, man?” 

“I should be asking you that,” Kevin berates, but gives his best friend a hug regardless. “You were gone before I could follow you.” 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, bud,” Arnold says, a laugh bubbling from his mouth before he turns around and motions for Kevin to follow. “We’re set up at the school. Come on.” 

They make their way past huts and lodges, staying off the main path in case the rogues have given up on eliminating Zelder, Sadaka, and Gotswana and decided to hunt down the others. Right as they make it to the school, Nabulungi is stood waiting for them by the door, waving them over and shutting the door behind them. The windows have been blocked as much as possible with what seems to be whatever they could find inside – chairs and tables tipped against the walls, loose floorboards, and other materials lying around. Kevin nearly scowls but remembers they managed to get one last shipment of supplies from the Church before they were shut down, and since then, they’ve gotten some – not much, but it’s more than nothing – help from the American Embassy in Uganda. 

Still, he’s been spending a lot of time in here, teaching the kids while Arnold tells them stories, and he’s grown to more or less consider the building a second home. Or perhaps a third home, seeing as their mission hut would be the second. Either way, he thinks wasting perfectly usable supplies on a stupid game of paintball might be just a tad too irresponsible. But then, he’s not about to chastise his friends for it, especially not while he’s still part of the problem. 

Maybe after, he considers. Maybe he can politely bring up the many flaws in this idea without stepping on anyone’s toes – which admittedly isn’t an easy feat for Kevin Price. 

“Ah, Elder Price!” Kimbe greets him once they enter one of the two classrooms. “I see you finally decided to join the winning side.” 

Kevin laughs, looking around to see Kalimba standing by the windows and he gives her a nod when she turns around. “Well, yeah, I hope so.” 

“Those white boys won’t make it very far, I’m sure,” Naba says, throwing her arms around Kevin’s and Arnold’s shoulders with a smile. “Especially not when we got the best two.” 

“Actually, they all seemed pretty good at all this,” Kevin says when Naba lets go. “Elder McKinley is a born leader and Elder Church is… surprisingly stealthy. I wouldn’t underestimate them too much.” 

Naba shoots him a warm smile, one he returns as best he can. “Well, who I’m worried about are the dumbasses that aren’t even playing,” she says, walking over to stand beside Kalimba by the windows, peering out through one of the gaps to keep an eye out for intruders. “Baba and the rest. They’ve got no strategy, no tactics, it’s just _‘shoot at everything that moves’_ and it’s gonna get us all killed.” She pauses, waves a dismissive hand despite no one contesting her. “Or, eliminated.” 

“Do you know who’s out?” Kevin asks, taking a seat on one of the desks that aren’t used to seal the windows. “We lost Neeley almost instantly, but that’s not exactly shocking.” 

“Michaels and Ghali were hit before,” Arnold says, sitting on the floor and toying with his gun. “I don’t know about the rest, though.” 

“I saw Sadaka and Gotswana taking shelter at the doctor’s office. I think Elder, what’s his name again? The tall one with light hair, very skinny, doesn’t talk a lot.” 

“Zelder?” Kevin fills in and Naba nods. 

“That’s the one. I think he went with them.” 

“So, what’s our next move?” Kimbe asks. 

“How much ammo did you get?” Naba directs the question to Arnold who looks up with widened eyes. 

“I forgot.” 

Naba practically facepalms, pinching the bridge of her nose while shaking her head, but to Kevin’s surprise, she’s smiling when she looks back up. “Idiot,” she says, but her voice is sweet and forgiving, much like most things about her. “Well, _I_ managed to get a few pods but we’re going to need more. It’s better to stock up early, so I think we should make another run for it.” 

“I can stay behind and make sure no one gets in,” Kimbe says, and Naba nods. 

“Good,” she says, turning to look between Kevin, Arnold, and Kalimba. “Are you all good to go?” 

Kevin wants to say no, but he doesn’t. In a way, he’s starting to get into it, now that he’s with his friends, and he thinks that perhaps he would have enjoyed the whole thing just a bit more, had he not witnessed a man get shot the very first week he got here. Even though he acts like it doesn’t affect him anymore, there’s a faint memory of splattered blood against the pale white polyester blend of his shirt that refuses to die, refuses to let his mind rest for long enough to forget it. He feels guilty. Despite not directly having anything to do with it, he still feels guilty about it. About the way he couldn’t help, couldn’t stop the bullet, or keep the man from dying. He prayed that God let him into Heaven that night, even as a nonbeliever because he can’t believe in a Heavenly Father that would ever turn down someone so brutally deprived of life. He just can’t. 

And even though the blood on his hands that day hadn’t technically been his fault, he couldn’t let the feeling go, even after scrubbing his skin clean, there was still that _feeling_ , itching beneath his skin as if the blood had just been absorbed by his body. Sometimes he can still feel it. 

“Kevin?” Naba suddenly asks, standing by his side with a worried look on her face. “Are you okay?” 

Kevin nods instinctively. He is okay. He always is. “Yeah, sorry,” he says, attempting a smile. “I’m good to go.” 

Five minutes later, they’ve just made it past the front door, moving quickly to take cover behind the nearest hut. They’re headed for the pickup area by the minimarket, it’s on the same side as the school so they won’t have to cross the main path, and it’s slightly more obscured than the one by Sadaka’s porch. Naba takes the lead, which Kevin is honestly quite thankful for, considering he has mostly no idea what he’s doing, and it feels undeniably natural following Nabulungi’s orders. She reminds him of Elder McKinley in some ways. They’re both great leaders, not only because they radiate the kind of authority that leaders need, but because they have a way of sensing when people need help or guidance. A quiet Elder would normally not be cause for any concern, yet Elder McKinley and Naba have both noticed Kevin’s slight aversion to today’s activities when no one else seems to. 

They make their way forward, running along the backside of the many huts while remaining in a crouched position. Naba stops them every once in a while, before peering out behind the edge of a building, making sure the coast is clear, and then they’re moving again. It isn’t far, thankfully, and once they get there, it seems they’re alone. But they know better than to rely on silence, whoever could be watching them might be holding their breaths as well. 

The minimarket lay in between four huts, belonging to Ghali and Kalimba among the people participating. But despite being fairly locked in, the building stands separately from the ones around it, so even though they won’t be in full view from the main path, there is enough space to be spotted by passersby. Naba seems as aware of this as Kevin is and soon turns around to face them, whispering for Kalimba to follow her to the other side of the hut they’re currently standing behind while Kevin and Arnold stay put so that in case there’s an ambush, they’ll be ready to fire back from two directions. 

Once they’re all in position, they wait for a moment, listening intently to hear any approaching footsteps, and when the coast seems clear enough Naba gestures for them to move. 

They’re in front of the market in a second, grabbing as many pods of paintballs as they can fit on their person when suddenly, there’s a voice. 

They sprint back, taking cover behind the same hut they’d emerged from and Kevin dares a peek to see who they’re dealing with, and of course, it’s none other than the people he abandoned earlier. Luckily, though, it seems they haven’t yet noticed them, and Kevin notes it’s only McKinley and Thomas. Elder Church must have stayed behind, which was thankful for them, considering he probably would have heard them sooner. 

He tries to find Naba but she’s nowhere to be seen, most likely taking cover on the other side of the hut with Kalimba, and Kevin isn’t sure how to proceed. It seems like the perfect time to take them out, still, there’s something in his brain that keeps that notion from being considered, and instead, he turns to Arnold. 

“Where’s Naba?” he mouths, desperately trying to make as little noise as possible and for some heavenly reason, Arnold understands what he’s saying, motioning for him to follow as they make their way to the other side of the hut. Hopefully, the one Naba’s on. 

She is, and the instant she spots them, she pushes a finger to her lips in a _shh_ motion. Kevin peeks out from behind her. McKinley and Thomas are still picking up equipment, taking their sweet time doing it as well, and as McKinley moves out of his sight, he leans just a little further. And then a little more, and before he knows it, he’s losing his footing – just standing there like the klutz he is – and in an attempt to regain his balance, he moves his right foot. 

He moves it right onto a dry twig on the ground, and Thomas’s head snaps up at the sound. 

“Shoot,” slips Kevin’s mouth before he can stop it, and it only takes a second for Arnold to react. 

“Okay,” he says and fires twice, because clearly, _that’s_ what he meant. 

“No- Arnold!” he whisper-shouts as he ducks back behind the building, but it’s too late. 

“You said to shoot!” 

“I said _shoot_ , like shit but the Mormon version,” he manages to let out as he moves back to the other side, hearing shots being fired behind him and he isn’t sure if anyone’s hit, but right as he rounds the corner of the hut to get to the side facing the forest, he throws a glance back and notes that no one is at his heel. 

Whether that’s good or bad, he doesn’t have time to think about because suddenly there’s a body slamming into his and he just about keeps his balance as he stumbles backward a few steps. He instantly raises his marker, pointing it straight at the unarmed man in front of him before glancing to the ground and sure enough, there lay McKinley’s gun. 

“Price,” he says, his hands raised in the air in some kind of surrender, but Kevin doesn’t buy it. 

“McKinley.” He keeps his eyes fixed on his District Leader’s and aims the gun at his chest. Just in case. 

“You left us before,” McKinley says, and the way he’s looking at him is still unreadable to Kevin. 

He would have winced if there wasn’t so much adrenaline pumping through his veins, and he tries his best at sounding collected. “Sorry about that.” 

McKinley takes a step away, effectively backing up to the wall where he dropped his marker. “I guess I’m just surprised,” he says, his voice so incredibly casual that it shouldn’t be possible. How can he essentially be held at gunpoint without so much as a hitch in his breath? “I thought you were happy to be on my team.” 

“I was,” Kevin defends, or perhaps apologizes, he isn’t quite sure. “But I promised Arnold before the game.” 

“Right,” McKinley calmly says, inching closer to his gun ever so carefully, as though he thinks Kevin is none the wiser. “Well, it’s nice to know you’re loyal.” 

He makes a move for the ground, but Kevin is one step ahead and has him pressed against the wall before he can grab what he’s reaching for. He holds onto McKinley’s right wrist with his left hand while keeping the gun pointed at him with his right, and then finally, McKinley’s breath hitches and it sets something off in Kevin’s head that nearly takes him out of the moment. 

They’re standing so close, closer than they ever have before and it’s not that he likes it, but there is something fundamentally exhilarating about the way he can feel McKinley’s breath against his skin, see the way his eyes searches his face while calculating the easiest way out of his grip. It’s not like anything he’s felt before, and it scares the living shit out of him. 

Time slows down, he’s sure of it, because there’s no way they have actually been standing there for as long as it feels to Kevin. He knows he should do something, only, he doesn’t know what, and all he can do is keep his eyes locked with McKinley’s until the District Leader finally breaks the silence. 

“Do you really wanna do this?” he says in that same cool tone but with a slight intonation that lets Kevin believe he’s not as unfazed as he acts. 

Still, the question takes him off guard, and he only manages to breathe out a, “What?” in response. 

“First you abandon me and now you’re gonna, what, shoot me?” He lifts his eyebrows ever so slightly, but the motion is enough to catch Kevin’s attention, and he smiles, almost wickedly, when Kevin looks back into his eyes. “Didn’t peg you for a backstabber, Price.” 

Kevin instinctively takes a step back, and it should give McKinley both the time and space necessary to make a run for it, but he stays put. “I’m not,” Kevin says, and there’s a dangerous look in McKinley’s eyes that he chalks up to being because of the thrill of the game. 

“Then prove it,” he demands back, taking a small step away from the building. “Let me go and we’re even.” 

Kevin bites his lip in thought but doesn’t miss the way McKinley’s eyes follow the movement. To be fair, he _had_ left McKinley earlier, so perhaps he did owe him this. 

He throws a glance to the side but there’s no one there, and he isn’t sure if he’s relieved or not, but he turns back either way, meets McKinley’s eyes again before nodding his head in the direction of the church. McKinley takes the hint and reaches for his gun on the ground, but Kevin nudges it away with his foot. “Leave it.” 

McKinley looks up with a disbelieving smile on his face. “You’re going to be the death of me, Elder Price.” 

Kevin doesn’t answer, simply keeps his expression as neutral as he possibly can while watching his District Leader with wary eyes as he slowly backs away. 

“Oh, and if you shoot me in the back,” he says, stopping at the edge of the hut before turning around. “I’m putting you on cleaning duty for the foreseeable future.” 

And then Kevin can’t help but crack a smile but pushes it down as best he can. “Just _go_.” 

McKinley shoots him a smile. “Thanks,” he says, and then he glances out from behind the building and takes off. Kevin can only watch as he disappears. 

But then he remembers where he is. He remembers what they’re doing and how he just let the enemy get away while possibly losing nearly every person on his team. 

He peeks around the corner and notices that no one’s there. He can’t hear anyone either, and he thinks his safest bet is to make it back to the school and see if his teammates are still in the game at all, but thankfully, he only makes it a few huts down before he spots Naba, and he nearly throws his arms around her in glee. 

“You’re alive!” he says in a whisper as she turns around. “I mean, you’re not hit.” 

She smiles. “Neither are you, I see,” she says before her expression turns somber. “We lost both Arnold and Kalimba, though. That Poptarts has surprisingly quick reflexes.” 

“I told you not to underestimate them,” Kevin reminds to which Naba pulls a face. 

“So, where were you?” she asks, beginning to move along the wall again. 

“I, uh,” Kevin falters. How the hell would he explain _that_ situation to Naba? “I got held up.” 

She’s about to confront him, he knows by the side-glance she throws him, but before she can open her mouth, she takes a step out from behind the last hut on their way back to the school, and _splat_. 

Kevin lifts his gun instantly, and he isn’t sure what comes over him, whether it’s the instinct to protect his friend or the surprising fight or flight reaction he has never really encountered before, but he fires, and more importantly, _he hits_. 

Schrader throws his arms in the air with a loud groan before handing over his gun to Davis, and then Kevin spots Kimbe, standing by the school door with her marker aimed and she follows Kevin’s lead, taking Middala by surprise as his t-shirt is stained by the same blue color Schrader’s had just been. 

Before Kevin can aim his gun at any of the remaining rogues, Naba throws her weapon to the ground with a grunt. “Baba!” she shouts, rightfully angry. “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Mafala laughs. “It is only a game, Nabulungi.” 

“You just shot your own daughter,” she chides. 

“What is the saying, don’t hate the player?” 

“Well, then you won’t mind if Kevin shoots _you_ ,” she says, turning an expectant eye in Kevin’s direction as he gapes. 

“I don’t think you know what you’re asking me to do,” he blurts, not entirely comfortable with shooting one of his friends’ father, despite just taking out a fellow Elder. 

Naba shakes her head disapprovingly. “Coward,” she says and begins walking away, toward her and Mafala’s hut where they were all meeting once the game is over. Kevin turns his focus back to the three men in front of him who were now looking between him and Kimbe, seemingly unsure who to attack, so Kevin seizes the opportunity in what he considers to be their best option right now. 

Only, as he steps closer, Mafala points his marker directly at him and he instantly lifts his hands in the air. “Whoa, whoa, hold up. Let’s think strategically here for a second,” he says, a nervous laugh escaping his throat in the process, glancing over to Kimbe and trying to convey _don’t shoot_ to her as best he can. “There’s three of you, two of us, and at least six other people out there. If we team up, we stand a better chance of taking them out.” 

Mafala laughs again. “And why should we listen to you, white boy?” he says, and Kevin screws up his face at that. 

“Come on, Mafala, you know my name,” he says despite himself. 

“Okay,” Mafala says, seeming amused by the sudden outburst, but from spending a lot of time with Nabulungi, Kevin has automatically spent almost an equal amount of time with her father. “Why should we listen to you, white boy _Kevin_?” 

He nearly scowls but leaves it be as he scrambles to think of something compelling enough to convince them. “ _Because_ , Kimbe is an _excellent_ shot, and _I_ ,” he pauses briefly, drawing a complete blank. “Have other strengths.” 

Mutumbo laughs then. “Like what?” 

“Well, I’m sure we’ll find out _someday_.” Kevin waves a dismissive hand that, again, makes the rogues laugh. “But this is our safest bet. As of right now, anyway.” 

They seem to think about it, Elder Davis takes a step closer and speaks something that’s just too quiet for Kevin to hear before they all turn to look at him again. “Okay, we’ll join you. On one condition,” Mafala says, throwing a glance to the gun and ammunition Naba had dropped to the ground when she was eliminated. “We split the ammo.” 

Kevin briefly meets Kimbe’s eyes, but he holds her gaze long enough for her to give him a nod before she disappears back inside. “Deal,” he says, looking back to Mafala. “We’ll divvy it up inside.” 

Kevin motions for them to move toward the school but Mafala is quick to throw the gesture back his way, and he realizes then, that they don’t trust him enough to turn their backs on him. On second thought, he doesn’t either, but for the sake of the game – for the sake of proving he’s not leading them into a trap – he walks past them, almost certain that he’s about to take a bullet to his back as he pushes the door open. 

But nothing happens, so he keeps moving, and he can hear footsteps behind him, but he doesn’t dare turn around. Afraid the movement will be too sudden and set them off, he just makes his way to the second classroom, where he hopes he’ll find Kimbe. 

And he does. 

He hadn’t intended to betray their newest teammates at all, or at least not this soon, but it seems Kimbe had other plans because right as he makes it over the threshold, there is blue paint _everywhere_ , and Kevin all but makes it to out of its way as both Mafala and Mutumbo get covered, head to toe. Horrified, Kevin looks up at Kimbe who’s holding two guns at once, undoubtedly fully loaded, and she smiles victoriously as the two players begrudgingly drop their guns to the floor. 

But then Kevin remembers – they were _three_. 

He can’t warn Kimbe before a lone ball hits her stomach and her shirt is stained red. The sight makes him quiver, but he quickly shakes it off as he aims his marker at Davis, standing with his weapon already drawn and pointed directly at him. 

“Price,” he says as Kimbe makes her way past him. “You’re pretty good at this.” 

Kevin narrows his eyes. “So are you.” 

“I used to play a lot when I was younger,” Davis shrugs, flashing him a small grin. “What’s your excuse?” 

“Good instincts, I guess.” It’s a lie, a terrible one, but he really doesn’t have a better answer. He isn’t _that_ good, thinking back. He’s only hit one person and honestly, that probably had to do more with luck than instinctual skills. 

Davis nods. “Right, well, look. We’re not the only ones left, and if you fire, so will I, and then we’re both out,” he says, and Kevin waits for him to make his point. “ _Or_ , we could get out of here and keep playing. Both of us.” 

Kevin frowns. “You wanna team up?” 

Davis opens his mouth, closes it again, and lets his stare linger before he takes a sharp breath. “No,” he says, and quickly shoots him a reassuring – if only a little, anyway – smile. “Nothing personal, I just made a promise to a friend.” 

It sounds like an obvious lie. It sounds like a trap, or like stalling while his _friend_ lines up the shot from a rooftop nearby, but for some reason, Kevin doesn’t feel the flick of a paintball hitting his body. 

“You get it, right?” Davis continues when Kevin doesn’t answer, his eyes wary yet taunting, somehow. “I noticed you were with McKinley before and, well, then you weren’t.” 

Kevin narrows his eyes again. “So, what do we do?” 

There’s a twitch in Davis’s lips that Kevin doesn’t fail to register, despite having no idea how to interpret it. “You wait here, a minute after I go-“ 

“What, so you can ambush me?” Kevin scoffs, slightly surprised by his response. “I don’t think so.” 

Davis laughs. “Have you no faith, Elder?” 

It feels precisely as ironic as it sounds, and Kevin’s eyes nearly do a full 360 in their sockets. “Evidently not.” 

Davis bites back a smile and tries to offer a somewhat apologetic look in its place. “Alright, then we leave at the same time. I’ll trust you not to shoot me and, well,” he pauses, gives a quick shrug that isn’t very reassuring at all. “You’re just gonna have to do the same.” 

It feels like a bad idea – has that bitter aftertaste that he gets after saying something without thinking or drinking too much of Mutumbo’s homebrew, but he goes along. If he makes a move at Davis, he’ll undoubtedly take himself out in the process and despite not enjoying the game a great deal, he still doesn’t want to lose. 

Kevin Price doesn’t lose, the word shouldn’t even be part of his vocabulary. Kevin Price is a winner, or every person in his life is a liar. 

Once they make it outside, Davis gives him a quick nod before he takes off to the right. Kevin moves along the same path he has a few times now, and he knows that his only chance of surviving is by joining forces with someone. And since he’s fairly certain that Davis’s _friend_ is not McKinley, Church, or Thomas, he has no other choice but to seek them out again. 

If they don’t shoot him before that, that is. 

He makes the short run to the church after he’s deduced no one is – or rather, should be – within sight of him, and he strikes the door with two urgent knocks before quietly, but loud enough to be heard through the wood, pleads his case. 

“Are you alone?” a voice replies, and he can tell it’s McKinley by the slight hint of concern in the tone. 

“Yeah, it’s just me.” 

And then the door creaks open and a hand grabs at his wrist before he can react. As he’s yanked inside, he notices both Church and Thomas aiming at him from behind McKinley, and he accidentally-on-purpose drops his own weapon to the floor at the welcome. 

“Thanks,” he says, awkwardly switching his gaze between the three of them and McKinley scans him with his eyes before allowing him a smile. 

“Well, well,” he says, cocking an eyebrow. “Look who’s back.” 

“You said we were even,” Kevin reminds to which McKinley lets out a small laugh. 

“We are, Elder. Don’t sweat it.” He turns around, walking down the aisle to the front where they seem to be keeping their supply, and at a second glance, Kevin notices they have quite an abundance. “But I take it the blue team’s out then?” 

“Yeah,” Kevin says, sitting down at the nearest pew to just catch his breath. Finally. “Red too, except Davis. I think he went to find Zelder and whoever’s left.” 

“Sadaka and Gotswana,” Church supplies. 

“I knew Davis wasn’t just messing around,” Thomas says, flashing Church a triumphant smile. “He’s way too competitive for that, just like-“ 

“ _Thin Mints_ ,” McKinley cuts him off with a sharp look, and if Kevin didn’t know better, he’d say it was a warning. “Careful.” 

Thomas gapes for a moment, throwing a quick glance at Kevin. “Just like…” he trails off, mouth still ajar as he shrugs. “Other… people I know.” 

Church snickers beside him. “Subtle.” 

“And hey, I never signed off on Thin Mints,” Thomas says, returning McKinley’s stare with a glare of his own, but their District Leader only smiles. 

“Whatever you say, Chips Ahoy.” 

Thomas scowls but doesn’t retort, and Kevin doesn’t know what to say. He has the tiny inkling that all of it was either because or about him – maybe even both – and well, he wasn’t sure what to make of that, if he’s being honest. 

So instead, he says, “Thanks for letting me in.” 

They all turn to look at him, McKinley with a smile while the other two seem almost amused, yet Church offers a supportive, “Of course.” 

“How are you so good at this?” slips his tongue then, and Church meets his eyes with a slightly befuddled look. 

“Good at what?” 

Kevin gestures to nothing in particular. “All of it, sneaking around, being stealthy, hearing footsteps before anyone else,” he recounts and notices how Thomas glances over to his boyfriend. “Did you use to be a scout or something?” 

Church laughs through his nose. “Not exactly,” he says, averting his gaze with a shrug. “Old habit, I guess.” 

Kevin isn’t sure what that means, but he knows better than to pry when Thomas reaches out and intertwines his fingers with Church’s. Feeling suddenly both left out and imposing, Kevin gets on his feet and makes for their District Leader, still sitting up front, seemingly reloading his marker when he looks up to watch Kevin approach. 

And he does. Watch him, that is, with scrutinizing eyes and that same, obnoxiously unreadable expression. He holds Kevin’s gaze for a few, uncomfortably long seconds before he returns his focus to the task at hand. “So,” he says, hands idly at work. “You make any use of that gun yet?” 

Kevin nods despite McKinley’s eyes, for once, not being on him. “Once.” 

And then they are again. “You’re in the final eight and you’ve only fired one shot?” he says, a smile playing across his face but never really settling on his lips. “Well, that sure is something incredible. Appropriately.” 

“Or dumb luck.” 

McKinley tilts his head, a faint crease appearing between his brows. “Since when are you one to sell yourself short?” 

Kevin is so close to scoffing that it physically pains him to refrain. “Since-“ 

“Guys! There’s movement.” 

McKinley flies to his feet at Church’s words, hurrying over to stand by his side and peek out through the mostly covered window near the front door. Kevin can hear him mutter something under his breath, but he can’t make out what, and as he starts to walk toward them, McKinley turns back around, his expression determined. 

“We can’t wait for them to come here, that gives them the upper hand,” he says, his brows knitting together in deep thought as he taps a finger against the plastic in his hand. “We need a plan.” 

“We don’t have time to make a plan, they’re already moving,” Church stresses. “We have approximately twenty seconds.” 

Kevin glances over to McKinley, who’s expression has lessened slightly, but only to be morphed into something Kevin almost labels as fear. 

“ _Eighte-_ “ 

“I _get_ it, okay, let’s just,” McKinley falters before there’s a shift in his eyes and he’s suddenly grabbing at Kevin’s arm, dragging him along as he turns around. “Let’s take the backdoor, that’ll buy us like, what, ten seconds?” 

Thomas and Church are soon at their heel and McKinley opens the door just as they hear the front door swinging open as well, but they barely make it outside before a figure rounds the corner of the building and, once again acting on adrenaline or instinct, Kevin aims blindly and pulls the trigger, somehow – and with great emphasis on _somehow_ – hitting Zelder in the knee. Before he barely registers what’s happened, Church and Thomas take off in the direction Zelder had come from while McKinley pulls him the opposite way, moving toward the wall facing the woods, but before they make it round the corner, Zelder breaks what can only be described as an unwritten but unanimously agreed upon rule. 

“They’re back here!” 

Once you’re out, you’re out, and you don’t interact or interfere with the remaining players. Unless you’re Elder Zelder, apparently. Just because the name rhymes doesn’t give him the right to act the clown. 

Kevin can see Thomas stop dead in his tracks, turning to Zelder with a scowl the same moment as Gotswana makes it through the backdoor and, thankfully for Kevin, looks to the left, consequentially spotting Thomas and lining up his shot and, before Kevin has the time to take him out, he fires. Only, in some way Kevin is convinced is miraculous, Church manages to step in-between the pellet and Elder Thomas, in a stupidly heroic sacrifice that would honestly be quite tragic if this weren’t just a crass game of paintball. He even falls to the ground for what Kevin assumes is dramatic effect, and Thomas gets on his knees beside him uttering a string of _oh-my-goshes_ and _you’re-an-idiots_ and _I-can’t-believe-you-did-thats_ as he takes Church’s hand in his own. 

And because for some reason, everyone had sort of just stopped at the scene playing out in front of them, it’s quiet enough that, even on the opposite side of the building, Kevin can hear James speak a soft answer that surely wasn’t meant to be shared by no one but Thomas. 

“I love you.” 

_Splat._

“Are. You. _Kidding me_?” Thomas glares back at Gotswana who fired the rogue bullet, and then something clicks in Kevin’s head and he gets Gotswana in the back before he’s once again yanked away by a hand whose touch he’s grown to recognize. Only, this time, McKinley pulls him away from the church and they dive behind the same dumpster Kevin had used as cover after leaving him earlier. 

He hadn’t realized until now that he’s as good as breathless. 

“Are you okay?” McKinley asks while peering out to see if Sadaka or Davis are on their trail. 

“Yeah,” Kevin manages, and then he feels a frown growing on his forehead. “We lost them. Or, um. They lost, I guess.” 

“I know, it’s just you and me now,” McKinley offers him a smile that soon fades slightly as he gives him another investigating look. “You’re not gonna betray me again, are you?” 

And there it is again, the question that is really just a statement looking to be confirmed, and Kevin does so with a shake of his head. 

McKinley smiles briefly before taking another look at their surroundings. “I think Davis and Sadaka are the only ones left, and it looks like they retreated,” he says, standing back up while maintaining a crouched stance. “We could probably make it back to the church.” 

“Should we really go back?” Kevin hesitates. “Won’t they expect us to?” 

“All my ammo is back there.” 

“So, we’ll get some more.” 

McKinley shakes his head. “There’s barely anything left by the market and it’s too risky going to the other one,” he says. “I think it’s our best bet right now.” 

Kevin is still a bit skeptical about going back, and he’s sure his District Leader can read him like an open book. 

“Kevin,” he says, seeking Kevin’s eyes with his own and Jesus Christ they really are bluer than the ocean and sky combined. “Do you trust me?” 

He does. He baselessly, stupidly, absolutely unquestionably trusts Elder McKinley. So, he nods, and then McKinley’s hand is back on his wrist because apparently, Kevin can’t be trusted to follow him anywhere. 

Or perhaps he just enjoys the contact. 

They make it back in one piece and McKinley goes straight for the stack of pods at the front of the church, stuffing his pockets until they’re full and then handing the rest to Kevin who begins doing the same. Granted, they can’t fit a lot since they’re both wearing shorts with limited storage space but hopefully, it’s enough to last them a while once they leave this place. 

“We could go to the school,” Kevin suggests when McKinley begins moving down the aisle to the front door, stopping to peer out through the window. 

“We’re in the homestretch now, I don’t think we can keep playing defense much longer,” McKinley replies without looking back at him. 

Kevin considers him for a moment. “So, should we just go look for them?” 

“I…” McKinley starts but trails off, stepping away from the window and turning to face Kevin. His expression is still one Kevin struggles to completely understand, but he can sense his District Leader isn’t exactly feeling cocky. “I don’t know. I honestly didn’t think I’d make it this far.” 

Kevin has to laugh at that, and McKinley shoots him a pointed look before he can explain. “Neither did I,” he says and then McKinley is smiling and Kevin can practically feel his pupils dilating as he watches blue eyes peer into his own the way that only McKinley can. The way that sets every nerve ending in his body on fire despite not even touching him. 

A moment passes for Kevin isn’t sure how long. Time always seems to do that when McKinley is looking at him, seems to both slow down and slip him right by simultaneously and it doesn’t make a lick of sense to Kevin. Or perhaps he just doesn’t want it to, perhaps admitting it makes it all too real. 

Before he has a chance to suppress his thoughts, however, there’s a voice coming from outside that snaps them both back to reality. 

“I don’t think they would’ve come back here.” 

It was Davis, and suddenly Kevin is being yanked into the tiniest of broom closets that he wasn’t even aware existed in the church. 

“They might have,” comes Sadaka’s response. “Let’s just have a quick look.” 

They hold their breaths as the front door opens, and Kevin tries his damnedest not to think about how close they’re standing and how he can feel McKinley’s body lightly pressing against his own and how when he’s about to panic, McKinley’s right hand instantly covers his mouth to keep any noise from slipping out. He tries not to think about how warm McKinley’s hands are, and he inadvertently closes his eyes and maybe just _slightly_ leans into the touch. 

Not much later, Davis and Sadaka seem to leave again as a door closes and the sound of footsteps disappears and Kevin dares to finally let a breath escape his lips, only to land against McKinley’s hand that they’re both reminded is still covering Kevin’s mouth, and he removes it slowly, as though not fully convinced Kevin won’t scream. 

Obviously, he doesn’t, and his eyes are just starting to adjust to the darkness so he notices the way McKinley’s face flushes and suddenly he can feel his own cheeks heat up. 

“Thanks,” he blurts, eliciting a surprised laugh from McKinley. 

“For what?” 

“This.” Kevin attempts to gesture between them but finds there’s hardly any space to do so. “Looking out for me, I mean.” 

McKinley smiles, and unless Kevin’s brain is screwing with him, he’d say the District Leader was blushing again. Whether he is or not, Kevin’s heartbeat already seems convinced of as it begins to quicken its pace beneath his skin and by the way McKinley’s eyes briefly glance down at his chest, he’s almost certain he can feel it, too. 

“We could probably get out of here now,” McKinley says instead of acknowledging the tension in the air, and Kevin nods once. 

“Probably.” 

But no one makes a move for the door and then McKinley’s eyes flicker down to his lips and Kevin mirrors the motion and without realizing it, leans further until their noses are touching, and there’s that slight hitch in McKinley’s breath again that sends Kevin’s brain into overdrive and he isn’t sure exactly how it happens but suddenly their lips are touching and Kevin briefly forgets about everything. The game, Davis and Sadaka, the fact that they’re standing in a goddamned closet, as if that isn’t the quintessence of irony, right there. 

McKinley’s lips are soft against his own, only lightly brushing them together in slow, gentle movements and all Kevin can do is melt under the touch. 

Until McKinley pulls away, and Kevin watches as his eyes flutter open and how they quickly widen and fill with concern and Kevin realizes then that he’s probably gaping. 

“Oh, no,” McKinley breathes, looking as close to panic as Kevin feels. “Should I not have?” 

“No! I mean, yes. I mean- Oh, boy.” 

He pushes the door open and makes for the closest pew, sitting down as he feels his chest heaving and he realizes that he’s hyperventilating. 

“Elder Pr- _Kevin_ ,” McKinley soon follows, crouching down in front of him to try and catch his gaze but Kevin averts his eyes whenever they come too close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

Kevin tries to calm himself down, tries to focus on McKinley’s hand on his knee, and how the warmth starts to spread throughout his entire body, and it helps for a second. For long enough that he manages to say, “But you do,” and it comes out all wrong. 

McKinley’s eyes drop slightly, and even though he doesn’t move an inch, Kevin can feel him pull away. “Oh.” 

“No, not like- I mean,” he starts, grasping at words he can’t quite reach and notices how McKinley’s forehead creases again. “I’m not supposed to feel like… this.” 

McKinley’s expression softens at that, and he offers a comforting smile that way he always manages to do. “I think you’re allowed to feel whatever you want,” he says, moving from his squatting position on the floor to sit next to Kevin. “That’s the good thing about us being here, we’re – I don’t wanna say free, but for lack of a better word, we kind of are.” 

Kevin looks at him, _really_ looks at him, and he isn’t sure what he’s searching for but somehow, his subconscious seems convinced he’ll find it in the blue of Elder McKinley’s eyes. 

Coming up short, however, he asks, “How do you do it?” and when McKinley tilts his head at the question, he adds, “How do you deal with the… guilt?” 

And then McKinley flashes a smile. It’s brief and sort of bittersweet, but Kevin can’t tear his eyes away even if he tried. “I’ve been feeling guilty about this since I was nine,” he says, seeming to realize when Kevin meets his eyes that that isn’t exactly the most comforting thing to tell someone baring his soul. “But I think the best way to get over it is to come to terms with, you know, yourself.” 

Kevin turns away and forces his eyes shut as his breathing picks up speed again. He’s been having, well, _thoughts_ , for quite some time now. Thoughts that a good Mormon shouldn’t have, thoughts of holding his District Leader the way Arnold holds Naba or the way Elder Church and Elder Thomas hold each other. He’s been having dreams, too, with a far too recurring guest star who keeps stealing the show, forcing Kevin to jolt awake in cold sweats nearly every night. He’s been stealing glances, every chance he gets. Even while trying to ignore how his body ignites at McKinley’s touch, he hasn’t been able to look away, and he isn’t sure if his District Leader has ever really caught on before today. Not that it matters, really, since it’s already out. 

When Kevin doesn’t respond, McKinley carefully puts his hand atop Kevin’s, barely grazing the skin yet Kevin feels his nerve endings burst once again. “Hey,” McKinley quietly says, just slightly above a whisper, and lightly squeezes his fingers with his own. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

Kevin looks at him, his eyes big and expectant. “How do you know?” 

McKinley smiles. “Because I’ve got your back,” he says, lightly bumping their shoulders together. “Besides, no one is here is gonna think any less of you.” 

The thought has occurred to him before, that most people around here seem surprisingly accepting in a way he’s never quite experienced at home. Back in Salt Lake they barely ever so much as touch on the subject, let alone in a positive manner. No, back in Utah there was only boy-meets-girl followed by a lifetime of playing house. He wants most of it, or at least he thinks he does. He wants romance and a family and his own happy ever after. It’s only the wife criteria he’s not entirely sold on. 

Once again, McKinley continues when he gets no verbal response. “You saw how everyone reacted to Chris and James. No one treats them any different, or me, for that matter,” he says, compassion in his voice. “They’re not gonna judge you, either.” 

“But I’m… _me_ ,” Kevin says without thinking, and McKinley gives a small laugh. “No offense or anything, but I’m supposed to be the best Mormon the Church has ever seen and all that, remember?” 

“You still can be, Kevin,” McKinley assures, still smiling. “Well, I mean, maybe not the absolute best, what with the coffee and the alcohol and the cursing and-“ 

“Please tell me you have an actual point to make.” 

“What I’m saying is, no on here is gonna look down on you for having feelings for,” he pauses, glancing away with his mouth hung half-open as though he’s looking for the right word, “men.” 

“I don’t have feelings for men,” Kevin blurts before he even registers the sentence, and a wave of confusion washes over McKinley’s face at the outburst. 

“What?” he breathes out through a surprised laugh and then Kevin is grasping at words again. 

“No, it’s um. Well, it’s just, um, it’s just that it’s just,” he hesitates, his tongue tied in unrelenting knots as he fumbles, unsure of what to say and how to say it without sounding like a complete fool. “You.” 

Mission decidedly failed. 

McKinley’s face flushes with emotions Kevin hasn’t seen before, and the only thing he can say for certain is that his District Leader’s pupils dilate at his confession and he prays to a God he has doubt even exists that it’s a good thing. 

“Me?” 

Kevin takes a breath, and knows McKinley notices how shaky it is, as he says, “Yeah.” 

He’s just about to admit defeat – admit to himself that despite everything he’s let himself believe, Elder McKinley does not reciprocate whatever feelings Kevin’s harboring for him. But then he says, “Can I kiss you again?” and Kevin doesn’t need to think twice before nodding, leaning in at the same time McKinley does and then they’re kissing again and by God, it feels like… something incredible. 

Kevin Price doesn’t have much experience with making out, and he doesn’t think Elder Mc- _Connor_ , he should probably say, does either, but he seems to know what he’s doing. Or perhaps he’s just very good at thinking on his feet. What started as a slow, gentle kiss soon transforms into something deeper, something more passionate as Connor slips his tongue inside Kevin’s mouth, and it should feel unnatural – _does_ to some extent – but despite the unfamiliarity, Kevin wants more and more and even more as his hands begin to wander across the fabric of Connor’s shirt and before he knows it, Connor has swung his right leg over Kevin’s body and is suddenly sat on his lap with his hands tangled in Kevin’s hair, tugging ever so slightly and coaxing a sound Kevin wasn’t even aware he could make out of him. 

“What about the game?” Kevin breathes into his mouth. 

“Screw the game,” Connor smiles against his lips and Kevin can’t help but laugh a little. 

“This has got to be the peak of sacrilege,” he says as Connor trails kisses along his jaw. “I’m making out with my District Leader in a church we built with _the_ Church’s money.” 

Connor comes back up, meeting his eyes while a smile tugs at his lips. “Serves them right for shutting us down.” 

He dives back in with even more fervor than before and Kevin soon matches his eager lips and wandering hands, but then there’s a sound. 

A voice. 

“They _have_ to be in here, we’ve looked everywhere else.” 

“Shit,” slips Kevin’s tongue and he pushes the District Leader off him without thinking. 

“ _Elder_ ,” McKinley warns – and Kevin isn’t sure if it’s for cursing or pushing him to the floor – but soon spots the two figures by the door, watching with wide eyes and far too amused expressions. 

“This a bad time?” Davis asks, biting back a smile, and as both Kevin and Connor struggle to say anything at all, there is a sudden impact – a flick – on his chest, and he glances down to see his t-shirt now donned a bright green stain. 

“You couldn’t spare us _any_ dignity?” McKinley huffs, inspecting the red paint on his stomach. 

Sadaka smiles. “Hell no.” 

So they lost, apparently, which really shouldn’t come as a shock, considering it was Kevin’s first time playing and they both got a little, well, distracted, to say the least. Still, neither Sadaka nor Elder Davis makes a move toward the other, but they still need to crown a winner or this whole ordeal has been entirely unnecessary. 

“So who wins?” he says. 

Davis and Sadaka exchange a brief glance before turning back to Kevin and Elder McKinley. “We’re doing a Katniss and Peeta,” Davis says with a shrug. 

Kevin frowns. He’s always thought he knew all the villagers fairly well but can’t say he even recognizes those names, if that’s what they are. He leans slightly to Connor, and voices a quiet, “I don’t know who they are,” that the District Leader answers by narrowing his eyes. 

“I think they’re characters, in a book,” he says, watchful eyes glued to Elder Davis’s face as though waiting for a confirmation. “A _secular_ book – care to explain that, Davis?” 

Sadaka laughs while Davis only raises his eyebrows slightly, almost like offering a silent challenge. “You were just locking lips with Price,” he says, as amused as he seems unfazed by the scene he’d walked in on. “I don’t think I have to justify reading a YA novel once.” 

Connor’s lips quirk into a smile, but Kevin is still confused. “So what happens?” 

“We both win.” Davis turns his attention to Kevin and gives a small shrug. “Or we shoot each other at the same time, and no one does.” 

McKinley crosses his arms at that, and Kevin can see him cocking an eyebrow when he glances over. “Alright,” he says. “Go ahead.” 

“Oh, come on.” 

“No one said there could only be one winner,” Sadaka chimes in, and Kevin feels compelled to tell her otherwise but doesn’t. For once, he keeps his mouth shut and his nose out of other people’s business. “And I am more than happy to share it with Elder Davis.” 

The two exchange another look, longer this time, and they’re both smiling in a way that feels familiar but he still can’t put his finger on exactly why. Until he turns and finds Connor is directing that same look toward him. 

“You know, ironically,” he says, glancing over to Davis and Sadaka by the door. “I think this game might have brought a lot of people closer.” 

Kevin smiles. It isn’t a clear spoken _I like you_ that he’d have a much easier time clinging onto, but at least it is something in that general direction. And though he’s just a _little_ annoyed about losing, he honestly thinks he doesn’t care. Not when Connor is watching him like that, anyway. 

A while later, they make their way back to Mafala and Nabulungi’s house where everybody is waiting and they begin cheering once the final four players come into sight. Arnold is the first to greet them, and he does so by pulling Kevin in for a trademark Arnold hug, aka the ones that are so tight you can barely breathe. 

“You lost,” he says when he lets go. “What happened?” 

Before Kevin can answer, Sadaka says, “We caught them… quite off guard.” 

Expectant eyes turn to look at Kevin and Connor, and Kevin can feel his pulse rushing as he glances over to Connor for help. 

“They won fair and square,” the District Leader says, a small shrug to prove there isn’t more to it than that. “Much as it pains me to admit it.” 

“You don’t seem very upset,” Thomas points out with a suggestive smile that Connor quickly turns down. 

“Watch it, Oreo,” he quips, and Thomas rolls his eyes but grins regardless. 

Davis and Sadaka are rightfully celebrated, and since the game stretched on for longer than anyone had anticipated, they agree to clean the mess up tomorrow. Some of them had begun drinking before the game was even over, while others went home to either rest or fetch more alcohol, and when offered a drink, Kevin doesn’t decline. To be honest, he’s more thirsty for plain, cold water than he is Mutumbo’s moonshine, but it’s been a long day and he could benefit from losing his inhibitions, if only a little. Besides, Connor McKinley tends to be a lot more touchy-feely when he’s tipsy, and, well, that just holds a much different significance now than it had before. 

A couple of drinks and a few more hours in, Connor finds him in Naba’s kitchen and give him _that look_ before discreetly brushing the backs of their hands together and Kevin wasn’t aware of it, but he’s thankful that Connor doesn’t just out him right then and there. He’s careful, and attentive to the way Kevin reacts, the way he undoubtedly notices Kevin’s eyes darting around the room to make sure no one saw, and then he steps back, allowing him the space he needs while keeping a reassuring smile on his lips. 

“Come find me if you wanna talk,” he says quietly, meant for only Kevin to hear, and then there’s a flash in Connor’s eyes that reminds him of the look he’d given Kevin before at the church. “Or, you know. Not talk.” 

And Kevin wants. He wants both and more, wants to talk and get to know every aspect of Connor’s life and the way his mind works and the small habits he’s probably witnessed before but never really picked up on, and he wants to kiss him breathless and hold his hand and explore every thought, every dream, every notion he has concocted in his mind, and he wants it all. 

But he wants it sober. And privately, where no one can judge or disturb, where they can be themselves as openly and as loud and as nervous as they – or at least Kevin – will doubtlessly be. 

Thankfully, Connor McKinley can read him even when others can’t, and he gives Kevin’s hand an understanding squeeze before leaving him to sort his thoughts out. 

It’s been a long day. Kevin has, sort of, learned to differentiate between actual, real-life gun violence, and a silly – if slightly inappropriate – game of paintball, and the discomfort and guilt is still there, but he feels as though he’s dealing with it. Slowly, sure, but it’s better than living in denial, and Kevin has been doing just that for far too long. 

He still hopes God welcomed the man to Heaven with open arms, and he still thinks kids shouldn’t run around pretending to kill each other in cold blood, but he has to understand that the world isn’t that black and white. There are gray areas far beyond his comprehension, but he has to start somewhere. Just like he has to come to terms with the fact that love doesn’t always mean man and wife, and that his feelings shouldn’t be disregarded just because they deviate from the norm. 

It’s been a long day. _Good God_ , it really has, and on his way back to the mission hut, before any of the other Elders seem inclined to leave, he finds Connor and he sits with Kevin in the common room for the remainder of the night while he spills the things he’s been too scared to let out before. There’s no pressure, no judgment, just someone who listens without expecting anything in return. Someone who tells him he’ll be okay, that he’s got his back and doesn’t intend on leaving him anytime soon. 

Connor McKinley is a great leader, that he’s already certain of. But – he’s realizing as the hours pass them by – he is an even greater friend, and perhaps someday, if Kevin dares to hope, he’ll find out what it’s like to be more than that, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm growing more and more okay with just providing this fandom (is it a fandom, do we call it that?) with crack and poor attempts at humor because some of y'all are so fucking good at angst, I could never. ALSO, this was supposed to be, like, pure crack all the way through but I quickly realized that Kevin just, wouldn't be very comfortable with a gun in hand, if that makes sense? Like, I'm sure none of the Elders really would be, but him especially, and so I had to address that to some degree, even if it's still mainly crack-ish
> 
> That said, I have no idea what this is but thank you for reading lol. And if you liked it, feel free to let me know! I'm open for suggestions or prompts too, so if you got any, leave it in a comment or drop by my tumblr (@sprinkleofharries). 
> 
> I just really love Community, give it a watch if you haven't already, it's worth it
> 
> Hope you're all doing well. Stay safe and _insert inspiring quote here_
> 
> (oh and if any of the technicalities are just plain wrong it's because I've literally never played and could only be bothered to do some research, let me be lazy for once please and thank you)


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